Mercy
by MustBeAWriter
Summary: The fear is still there, buried deep in her eyes, but there's none of the uncertainty that's been weighing on her. Heavy Angst Warning! Please, please read at your own discretion! Trigger warning: abortion


_*So, a little note about this: I have no effing clue where this came from. It was just in my head one night, and it wouldn't leave until I wrote it. And then I really liked what I wrote. But I still feel like I'm taking a huge risk posting this here. I will say that the views on abortion covered in this fic belong to the characters, and are not necessarily my own. (And, I'm sorry, but I really don't feel like discussing my personal views on abortion, so please don't ask.) Also, if abortion is something that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read any further._

(Clint)

He finds her on the roof of Stark Tower, sitting on the ledge, her legs dangling over the side. He swings up beside her, straddles the ledge so he can watch her. Something's off with her. She's spooked, and Nat doesn't spook easily.

They sit in silence for nearly fifteen minutes. When she finally speaks, it's only two words, and they're so quiet they almost get carried away with the breeze.

"I'm pregnant."

_Shit_. This wasn't supposed to happen. They've vaguely discussed a future, but never kids, because it's _them _and what the fuck are they going to do with a kid?

It's not his decision though. If Nat wants this baby, they'll make it work. He'll move Heaven and Earth to make it work. She's the one that matters in this equation. He can live with or without a baby. But he can't live without Nat.

"What do you want to do?" he asks.

She doesn't look at him. Maybe she can't. "I don't know."

He takes her hand, kisses the scar he gave her the first time they met. "When you figure it out, you know where to find me."

* * *

Three days later, he wakes to find her sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed. He knows immediately that she's made her decision. The fear is still there, buried deep in her eyes, but there's none of the uncertainty that's been weighing on her.

"We can't have a baby," she says.

He nods his agreement. He's been thinking it over, and it's the only logical solution. They can't bring a baby into the world. Not with SHIELD crumbling out from underneath them and more Hydra cells coming out of the woodwork every day.

"You know there's only one option," she adds.

He nods again. They can't afford to lose her for nine months. So, it sucks, but there's really only one option.

She drops her gaze to his blanket. "Are you okay with this?"

He moves to sit in front of her, takes both of her hands in his. "Tasha, this isn't about me."

She looks up at him, arches an eyebrow.

"It's not," he insists. "No matter what I may or may not want, it's your body, so it's your decision."

"But this isn't just my baby," she counters. "If you want this..."

"I won't lie to you," he starts. "I've dreamt about us having kids. But, maybe that's all it's ever supposed to be. A dream." He shrugs. "I've got you. I don't need anything else."

For the first time in weeks, there's a hint of a smile on her face. "Okay."

* * *

They don't waste time getting it done. It's not their style, and he knows that the longer they put it off, the harder it will be.

That doesn't mean it's not the hardest thing they've ever done.

The night before her appointment, her voice wakes him at 3 am. At first he thinks she's talking in her sleep, but then he realizes that she's talking to the baby; explaining why they have to do what they're doing.

He takes over when she starts to cry, explaining that what they're doing is being done out of love. Because they love their child too much to bring it into this world; into _their _world.

The next day, he doesn't leave her side unless he absolutely has to. He holds her hand through the procedure, holds her as much as he's allowed while she recovers. He only stops touching her long enough to threaten the paparazzo that snaps a picture of them leaving the clinic and crush the memory card under his heel. He only lets the guy go once he's sure he understands that Clint will end him if even a hint of this gets into the rumor mills.

She mumbles something about him being overprotective, and maybe he is, but he doesn't care. They've decided to not even tell the team. She doesn't need their judgment, wouldn't be able to stand their sympathy.

And he knows what would happen if the media got a hold of this story. They'd crucify her; call her a murderer. And there's no way in Hell he's letting that happen to her. Because she's done nothing wrong. This isn't murder.

It's mercy.


End file.
